I feel the tiredness of my years, those quiet times when breath appears in melting mosaic imagery, upon the mirrors of a sea that only calls so many names, through pious sunlit tortured flames that scrape themselves away from light,

Between the breathless breeze of day, I stood and wondered what to say, A sunlit sea, a cloud dressed night, a fawn dressed in the morning light, So much to choose , so much to paint, before my days grow

Dream the dreams that once had tip-toed softly through your sleep Dream of the immeasurable, so silent and so deep, Believe in the impossible, yet be prepared to doubt Your whispers are just dreams of night that haven’t learned to

Dawn wings glistened in the sun and the rain A story just rainbows can really explain, When silence is much more than the lacking of sound More an image of beauty that seeks to be found Where the sky meets

The weary sun tip toed through crochet clouds To darn lace curtains with golden needles, And to sign its name on criss-crossed trickling waters Making shadows bow down low in obituaries Of another fading day, and on distant Wandering memories,

Just an infinitesimal trace of light there Like a candle grown dim at the foot of the stair, Just the whisper soft motions of long, long ago That have dwindled away in the candles’ soft glow. Just the dawn calling

The ocean stretched out into infinity Like an endless dancing bluebell wood Gathered together and wrapped In fluttering silken whispers, Sometimes glowing sun paths Criss-crossed azure memories And once more painted them Into existence, and again Life songs grew close

The silence shattered like a crystal glass on a marble floor And every splintered diamond shard glittered like a newborn dream, As rising sun fingers trickled over them in blood red and gold contusions Dawn was the servant who had

Through shades of dark red embered fires, so many unfulfilled desires When orange suns and sallow skies created more than pain filled eyes That once watched tired yellow moons reach out to cast star silver runes, As they spread out

I just walk through my day as I stroll through a dream Where all things are as possible as they may seem, Where the moon rides the daytime, the sun rides the night For surely this means that both periods

The day seemed to start in an old fashioned way With arguments, laughter and children at play, The only thing different and wholly unplanned Was the man on the beach who drew dreams in the sand, He looked different some

Harp strings over the woodland mist Such shiverings of endless prayer That never seem to say goodbye They only seek to keep you there, And steeped in woods of long gone days Of Summer green and Autumn sky Are dryads

At the weekend she’ll go back again to walk barefoot on ferns and then through flickering green mosaics where sunlight never burns she’ll wander wisp tossed shadowed lanes of timeless peace rimmed hours where emerald rain drops sprinkle from sky

Between the times, between the rhymes, the beat of life goes on, Though sometimes stumbling through the dark, before the night has gone, And yet again it can be dazzled by the rising of the dawn Like many crumbling edifices

There are those who see nothing in every sunrise And those who see emptiness in loving eyes, They see only the water yet never the sea I just wish they would stop and take heed of my plea, Sunrises need

Once in forever there’s a name A blessed star kissed moonlit flame Remembering all our earthly rhymes Each page that opened on our times, Each good or bad, each glad or sad All of the living dreams we had, When

A gentle cough, a quiet word, a morning breeze, a waking bird, Into her box her letters fall, soft flip flop slippers down a hall, A radio plays yesterdays, and on the wall a clock face says That sometimes time

Wearily wandering, silently by The dreams and the wishes of yesterday’s sky, Remembering far away promises made Just pieces of flotsam adrift in the shade, Like explorers of truthfulness they travel on, Until every connection with yesterday is gone, And

The night was never caught so clear Each star was cast so crystalline, So much wrapped in black velvet shade Like moments clad in silken sheen, And evenings’ artists drew their pictures With their quill dipped in lunar ink With

She had lived in her lonely illusions Since she first came to know of life’s lies When she first watched the sun set in silence Beneath crowded vermilion skies, Where the rain fell in multi clad colours Just like rainbows

Hushed gossamer twinkling wondrous night skies Crept on to tomorrow near tinted cloud dawn, So familiar life’s hopes, yet still so much surprise Each time a day cries with a sense of being born, As scurrying down skies nervous fingers